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“Most likely,” Michael replied from behind me. “You’ve been gone for weeks; I’m sure there’s some dirt buildup.”
I was about to say that I had a housekeeper, but I stopped. It just dawned on me that I forgot to call her and let her know I'll be away for a while. I wonder how worried she must have been.
I unlocked the door to the apartment, then went into a side room to call the housekeeper. She seemed pleased to hear my voice, confirming that she became worried when she came by multiple times and found the apartment empty. She kept it clean, regardless.
“I assumed you had traveled for a work trip,” she said when I asked her why she kept cleaning in my absence. “I did not want you to come back to a dirty home.”
I thanked her and made a promise to cover the expenses even if I was not there, along with a generous tip to show my gratitude. I walked back into the living room to rejoin Michael and found him staring at the painting of him hanging on my wall. I walked up to him and stood quietly beside him, wondering about the thoughts going through his head.
“This is phenomenal,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You know, I never really saw your art before. This is breathtaking.”
I stole a glance at him, trying to read his face. As if lost in his own ethereal reflection, his distant eyes betrayed him. I had seen the painting have this effect on other people, as it had done the first night I had shown it to the world. I never thought what Michael would think of it, however. That’s because I never thought I’d see him again, I pondered quietly.
“How long has this been up here?” he asked in a dreamy voice. He had not taken his eyes off the painting the whole time.
I cleared my throat to say, “A few months. Actually, I started working on it the day I left you in Milan. It took me about a month to finish.” I hugged my arms around my chest. “I could not bring myself to forget you despite leaving you the way I did. This painting was my way of capturing what we had. At least how it felt to me.”
Michael nodded slowly, his eyes still trained on the painting. He craned his neck, cocking his head to the side as he tried to make out the extra detail on the canvas. As an artist, it feels good to see someone react positively to your work. It was an immeasurable joy coming from my muse.
I turned to face Michael fully. “I don’t think I have ever said this, but I want you to know that I am so sorry I left you the way I did. I did not even give us a chance. It was really messed up, and a day has not gone by that I don’t regret it. I have serious problems forming genuine connections because of the situation with my family. Still, I am sorry.”
He remained silent for a long time. I wondered if he had been listening to me at all. For all I knew, he could have been a statue carved in stone. For months, I had made excuses for my actions, rationalizing them beyond reason. As I watched him drink in my painting of him, I found it impossible to keep up the pretense. I realized that I desperately wanted to know what he thought all the time we were apart, and his silence was nerve-wracking.
“It’s alright,” Michael finally said, breaking the stillness. “I was sure I fell in love with you that first day.”
His words stunned me into silence. Did he just confess love? I looked up slowly at Michael, beyond nervous. His eyes had still not left the painting, and it did not seem as if he were expecting a reply. He was probably thinking out loud and not trying to pressure me into a response.
Michael took a deep breath suddenly, as if he had been submerged in water and had finally come up for air. He turned to me and smiled. “I’m hungry. I should order some food for us.”
The change in his countenance was surprising, but I let it go. “Sure. I don’t feel like anything extra, so pizza?” He nodded and pulled out his phone as he headed to a couch. “Er, Michael?”
“Yeah?” He turned to look at me.
“I told my friends I would let them know when I settled in,” I started. “I don’t know… would you like to meet them? They are the closest people in the world to me, and they probably know everything there is to know about you.” I shifted from foot to foot, waiting for his response.
“Oh, sure,” he said distractedly, crossing his legs on the coffee table. “So… a few extra boxes?”
I smiled and nodded. “Sure,” I said, walking away to make the call.
Half an hour later, the doorbell rang, and the girls trooped in quietly, hugging me in turn as they walked into the apartment.
“You’re glowing,” Louise said softly, fondly kissing me on each cheek.
I felt a ton of emotions seeing my friends again as if the feelings would spill out of me like an overfilled tub. I shut the door behind Kelly, who slipped an arm around my waist.
“I guess we finally met the man of your dreams, the one we have heard so much about,” she teasingly said as we walked into the living room.
Michael looked oddly comfortable in a room full of women, answering their random questions with more ease than I could have mustered. I sat quietly in a corner, smiling pleasantly as he got along with the girls. I had not spoken it aloud, but I had constantly prayed that they liked Michael when they met him. All signs indicated they did.
A knock sounded on the door, and Michael got up first. “Excusez-moi, mesdames,” he said smiling. “I believe our pizza has arrived.” He sketched a mock bow and hurried out of the room.
He was barely through the doorway before throwing pillows and came flying at me from all directions. “Hey!” I protested, blocking my head with my arms. “Cut that out!”
“How did you walk away from that?” Jenna whispered across the room, but I could tell she wanted to shout my head off. “That is the finest man I have seen in my entire life. I mean, you did a good job on the painting, but my world! What the hell were you thinking, Alessia?”
They all spoke all at once in hushed voices, each sounding more flabbergasted than the other at the extent of my foolishness. “How have things been going with Michael?” Rachel asked. “You guys seem pretty chill.”
“I really don’t know,” I replied. I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “We seem good sometimes, but other times, it seems like we don’t know each other at all. I really don’t know. I wish I did, though.”
